


The First Christmas

by Tamsan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, Coping, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hogwarts, Hurt/Comfort, I cried whilst writing this, Siblings, Time Skips, Timelines, Tiny Weasley twins, Twins, Weasley twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26140933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamsan/pseuds/Tamsan
Summary: It's the first Christmas after the Battle of Hogwarts and George has returned to Hogwarts.It's a short story about coping with grief.This is my first time posting a story here 😊
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley
Kudos: 4





	The First Christmas

Christmas at Hogwarts

Christmas, 1981

"George Weasley, you are in a world of trouble!" came the frightening sound of his mothers loud shout. Running with all the power that his small legs could muster, George dived into his and Fred's bedroom throwing part of his prize at his twin. "Did you get the mice as well?!" enquired Fred eagerly. Without a word, for his mouth was stuffed with Christmas cake, George lifted up a wiggling pouch filled with Marzipan Mice.

Curled up on their bed the two red haired toddlers rooted through their stolen collection of Christmas treats. Mince pies were munched on first, then marzipan mice and then the candy canes. Fred declared that Christmas was the best and George agreed. No more than an hour later the two of them could be heard rolling around on the floor, groaning and yelling as their small stomachs tried to deal with the titanic amount of sugar they had just consumed.

Christmas, 1998

"George - Wait up!" Without turning to see who had called to him, George moved forward to the entrance of the Great Hall. Whoever it was they would catch up. He rested his hand on the door and pushed, but it wasn't the Great Hall he saw when he entered. It was a battlefield. His eyes saw the abundance of Christmas decorations, but his mind was trapped in the horror of the Battle of Hogwarts.

With a shudder he closed his eyes and cleared his mind. Looking at the Great Hall again he supposed it looked as it always did at this time of year. The enchanted ceiling was that crisp blue of a winter's morning and had a dusting of snowflakes drifting down onto the heads of any who stood under it. There were twelve large firs dotted around the room decorated with ornaments, tinsel and gleaming lights. It was festive and inviting. He hated it.

Christmas, 1990

Fred had been talking excitedly for a full 20 minutes. It wasn't that anyone wasn't happy for him and George, they were, but there were limits to how long a person could pay attention to the rules of Quidditch and why being a Beater was the best.

"And that's when Wood said…" Fred continued ignoring the polite cough from his mother. "That we were the best Beater pair that he had ever seen." concluded George jumping to his feet and whacking a roast potato across the table at Fred. "He said that we were better than the Ravenclaw Beaters who are seventh years!" Fred nodded sagely and bit down on the potato before lobbing it back at George who fell out of his chair much to the amusement of his older brothers. Molly Weasley took advantage of the laughter to grab hold of a large knife and start carving the turkey before the twins could continue.

Christmas, 1998

"Look, right there." Angelina laughed fondly as she pointed to just past his left elbow. "That's where he burned our initials into the table." He didn't want her to stop, but he needed to know.

"How do you do it?" He asked. "How do you…" but he couldn't continue. His voiced cracked and his eyes started to burn.

Leaning over, Angelina took hold of his hand. "George, please. What's the matter?" He didn't want her to let go of his hand. Her warmth was alien to him. He had been existing in a cold void for months now.

"He's gone. What's the point of remembering all the good stuff when it won't change anything?" He tried to shake off her grip. He regretted bringing this up. He wasn't ready.

Christmas, 1994

"George!"

"Yes, Fred?"

"I think she's the one."

"The one what?"

"You know…" Fred said gesticulating vaguely with his hands. "The ONE."

"She has that effect on men, does old McGonagall. You aren't the first to have fallen victim to her severe charms."

"McGona… bloody hell, no! I'm talking about Angelina!"

"I never would have guessed, Fred." He grinned as Fred took aim at his head with the nearest object he could find. Luckily for George it was a pillow.

After a brief exchange of pillows Fred collapsed onto the floor and gazed up at George his face pensive. "I'm serious George. I've never felt like this before. She's one of my best friends and I love her, but I think I'm in love with her now as well." George had never heard his brother talk like this before. The two of them were rarely serious. "We kissed. At the Yule Ball, you know? But there was mistletoe involved, so she might have only been kissing me because of that. What do you think?"

Christmas, 1998

Angelina kept hold of his hand, not letting him escape. "My mother used to say that death is an ending, but not an end to memories. That those we have loved live on in the lives of those who remember them." Angelina shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know it doesn't dim the pain, but," She paused again. "I guess I always found it comforting that no matter what happens I carry their memories with me. And I think the happy memories are what make being apart more bearable."

George cleared his throat allowing himself a moment to collect himself. "I can't remember the good times. Everytime I try to, all I can see is him lying there, broken. Every day I feel him slipping further away from me, like I am losing him all over again."

She gazed at him in silence before standing up and coming around to his side. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she turned him to face her. "I remember all the good times. I won't let you forget those moments, George. I will help you remember." She grabbed her bag off the table and started towards the doors. "Let's go get a drink and I'll tell you about the greatest prank you and Fred ever pulled."

George stood still gazing at the initials carved into the Gryffindor table - FW 3's AJ.

She was right. It was time to remember. "Merry Christmas, Fred." he whispered before running off to catch up with Angelina.

As the two of them walked away from the castle, a hush fell over the Great Hall again. The lights gleamed and the snow continued to fall from the enchanted ceiling onto the deserted tables below. With no one to hear it in the emptiness of the room a voice whispered "Merry Christmas, George."


End file.
